Theoretical Games with Prophecy
by Scarabbug
Summary: All this guilt isn’t going to be of much help to the dragon of the prophecy. Set during Spyro: A New Beginning, Spoilers. WIP
1. Chapter 1

**One of the things I liked about _A New Beginning_ was the character interaction, particularly between Sparx and Spyro, but as it was with a Spyro I'm ot used to, it took some work to get the new guy into my head, this, then in the finished result. **

**What or who Cynder truly is (if she is, in fact, anyone possession a soul and free will) is a mystery, to both me and apparently to the Spyro characters who seem to know her only as a creation of a dark lord, an embodiment of darkness. I look forwards to finishing the game and finding out. Until then, I will attempt to keep any descriptions of her within the limits of game hearsay. **

**This fic deals with an in-game theory of mine which may be proved wrong on completion of the game. Any corrections are appreciated. **

**Disclaimer: **_The Legend of Spyro: A New Beginning_ is the property of _Sienna Games_ (at the moment, anyway, goodness knows who it'll be next year) and not myself. This fanfiction is made entirely for entertainment purposes and is not written in any attempt to obtain profit.

* * *

"**_You are a purple dragon. A very special creature. But right now, you must fight."_**

**_- Ignitus, The Legend of Spyro: A New Beginning, Trailer. _**

****

Theoretical Games with Prophecy.

He wasn't good enough to face Cynder. Not yet.

It was the animated dummies in the training arena that paid for that.

Terrador had more lessons for him to help remedy that problem. Volteer wanted to enlighten him further of the ancient past of long gone dragons (wasn't _that_ going to be an interesting experience.) Cyril, as far as Spyro could tell, probably had a few more things to tell him about the glory of the ancestors of ice.

And none of it mattered, except for the training. Except seeing just how many bad guys he could punch, kick, pierce and/or disintegrate and how quickly he could do it. One pierce at a time, one punch at a time, one burst of energy after another… and he knew he had to do it better.

There wasn't _time_. No time for training, no time for him to go rescuing anyone. And even if there was, Spyro couldn't do it. That was enough reason to be angry, really. At least that was what he told himself as he spat out another solid pulse of gravity and ripped another animated straw cut-out to shreds.

'Impressive, but not impressive enough, Spyro. Your time has run out.'

Spyro swallowed a breath. The ground was still shaking a little under his feet, rocked by the beginning of a minor earthquake bursting straight from Spyro's body. It didn't feel like nearly enough. '…Start it again?'

'It would be advisable to take a few minutes pause before renewing attacks on the same area, Spyro. Whether or not you can take it aside; this _is_ a rather old building…'

'No,' the temple could take it. Heck, it'd taken everything else they'd thrown at it. 'Start it again… Please.' He remembered his courtesy just in time there. Mom would be glad about that. She always did say to keep your nose clean.

He wasn't usually very good at that.

He blew three more of them backwards into oblivion without as much as a blink. He knew there wasn't any style in it. it was the same slapdash method Ignitus warned him about earlier. _'Sloppy, untrained, but it does the job.'_

And that was all Spyro needed right now. The ability to hit, over and over again.

He'd never been so _angry_ before. No, wait, that wasn't true. Sure he'd been angry. Everyone got angry sometimes, but…

Maybe this wasn't really anger. He wasn't sure, but… hitting things felt like it should make him _feel_ better and it _didn't_. It wasn't like lashing out at spirit gems –those things just kept whispering in your head, pulling you towards them until you couldn't help but smash them open. Only with spirit gems, the pulling always stopped after you'd smashed them to pieces. It wasn't stopping now. The anger keeps thumping no matter what he does to stop it.

He didn't take any pleasure in destroying one dummy after another. He wouldn't have if they were the real thing. All that Spyro had to do was destroy them. If he couldn't stop Cynder then he could at least stop the rest of the things the Dark Lord made, right?

He could do _that_.

'…Ah. While your physical attacks are impressive for your size, Spyro…'

Size. He'd never felt _small_ before. One day he was too big for his world, the next he was too _small_. What was the deal with that? Were they always as… small as him, when they started out? He'd never gotten to ask…

_Ignitus. _

Ancestors damn it.

He forgot what it was Terrador had been talking about. When back to smashing a dummy to pieces with a slash from his tail.

'…We are here to test your abilities with the forces of earth. Not your capacity with the melee attack.'

Spyro smashed into the floor one last time, maybe for good measure, maybe just in the vague hope that it would actually make him feel a little better this time. It didn't, of course.

But there was nothing else to do about it. So he fought. Because that was all he could do, and it _still_ hadn't been good enough. Blew apart as many straw cut outs as Terrador could throw at him. Fire, lightning, gravity, shards of ice, one after the other. Emphasis on the fire.

'Spyro, this is supposed to be an _earthbound_ training session…'

Not that fire had beaten Cynder before. Not that fire _could_ defeat her whether it came from Spyro or anyone else.

_No_, Spyro's brain corrected him against his will, without even taking in Terrador's words._ It's not just that you can't fight her. It's _her_. You can't face her because you're scared and even if you were strong enough you'd _still_ be scared and you _know_ you can't. Everyone knows. The dragon of prophecy can't do a _thing_. Because he's scared. _

Another dummy cracked and burst open against the chamber wall.

_Ignitus…it's my fault. _

'Whoa! Big guy over there. Spyro? Shouldn't you take that one _there_ out or something, because the rest are just little guys and _that's_ the one throwing the dyna… whoa! That was a bone shaker. Close one.'

_Close one_ didn't quite cut it. The attack came from the front this time, one of the smaller dummies. Spyro ignored the pain of it. He just started shooting all over again. One volley after another.

_Concentrate_. He needed to focus, already. He glanced in the direction of the door, beyond the simultaneous protective and deadly ring keeping him from the larger enemies with his short range attacks. Forcing him to attack from the air.

'I… don't think I can do this with just _earth_ powers!'

Terrador stood in the doorway in utter silence, and watched. 'You will learn, Spyro. That is the purpose of this lesson. And look out for those explosives.'

Dynamite. Where the heck did a bunch of animated dummies get _dynamite_? He hadn't much time to think about it. Shards of heat caught his side and threw him into the next explosion. The gravity burst popped and died in his throat. His next attack missed the target altogether and slammed into the wall inches from Terrador's head and Sparx's'… well, Sparx's' everything.

'_Concentrate_, Spyro.'

Another from behind, only he couldn't breath out in that direction unless he wanted to wreck his wings only a few days after working out how to fly, so a head bash was going to have to do. Another came from the side –he struck it out, catching it before it struck him. A third strike –a gravity burst from the snout– failed to make contact altogether.

Spyro grunted with frustration. He heard Terrador's words as a mutter, somewhere behind the ringing in his skull. 'The ability will come with time. Persevere, Spyro.'

No good. He couldn't focus the earth bursts properly; he couldn't make them fly right, and even though he could still shock whatever came at him into half submission, Cynder would just…

Another attack, and another. Another _three_ from him, dummies thrown into the air and tossed about like toys. Still no gravity.

'You showed potential back in the mines, Spyro…' _Yeah, before Cynder showed up._ '…I am certain that you can do it.'

_So was Ignitus. _Spyro thought._ He was certain, wasn't he? He believed in me._

A dummy attacked from behind before Spyro could see it coming. He told himself to focus, but it just didn't work.

'No, seriously, buddy,' Sparx put in, dodging aside of a dynamite stick aimed somewhere in his direction. 'Bad guys getting successfully creamed here, _stick_ to the bone shaking. Mom always said stick to what works— try to make this a clean finish, or… something. Yah! Dynamite, dynamite!'

_Well Mom always said that I'd grow out of the weight and height issues, as well, and a fine _fact_ that turned out to be. She never said…_

…_No. Don't be dumb, Spyro, you knew it all along, too, right? _

'Uh… okay, what was that?'

…Did he say that out loud? And with a mouth full of gravity? 'Nothing.'

'No, really buddy, what—'

Spyro spat out another energy burst and Sparx's question was drowned in the aftermath. The ground rocked like an earthquake.

_I won't. I can't. _

_Not again. No more._

Sparx was muttering something along the lines of 'Oh, crud, here we go again,' and Spyro wasn't listening. He was too busy channelling a new power construct through his head. Too busy ripping up every ounce of fire he had in his body. _The power of a thousand sun_s stolen from a thousand gems of light scattered throughout the surrounding realms. The force of the heat blast turned every scrap of air around him into burning molten liquid and forced his feet from the floor.

'Spyro, I can _see_ what you're doing. That is _not_ the right elemen… _Spyro_—'

The column rose up quickly and exploded outwards even faster.

Ignitus had called it the _Fury of Ishlandur's Final Stand_. Or something like that. Emphasis on the _Final_ and the _Fury_. Long name, simple idea. But a strong one, and dangerous.

And hot. Did he mention hot?

The whole process was carried out in roughly ten seconds, and left behind nothing but smoke and dust and the now red hot ground beneath Spyro's feet.

Breathing in still wasn't any easier than it had been beforehand. Though Sparx was clearly slightly surprised to find the temple was still standing, but still there. This place could probably withstand anything that anyone threw at it.

'…You know, I can't say I really love it when you do stuff like that.' Sparx muttered.

Spyro didn't answer. He couldn't actually _feel_ it yet, but Spyro knew that Sparx had perched himself on the tip of one horn, shifting awkwardly against the power that Spyro was still giving out, because he could hear his voice right up close to his ear. And then, all of a sudden he wasn't there anymore. He'd moved away quickly, because Spyro was _still shooting _at every remaining monster coming into focus

Eventually, though, he couldn't actually shoot anymore. Mostly because there wasn't anything left to shoot _at_. He could still feel the Fury energy pulsing and feel the flames licking across his scales. Embers were crackling on the temple floor. He was still shaking from the force of all the air around him being completely blasted away by his own Fury.

There wasn't any pain. But then, there never was. Except when it didn't actually _work_.

'Uh… so.'

Sparx. For a moment there, Spyro had forgotten about him. Which was… weird, because Sparx was pretty much unforgettable.

'Now that was a total white out. You should've done that before, oh mauve one, like try… oh, I don't know. How about when that freaked out steam train was tryin' to craft us into flatter, deader, easier-to-transport-to-our-doom forms? I'm sure it would've been _really_ useful back then.'

That was the wrong thing to say and Sparx knew it, and Spyro knew he knew it. But… he was Sparx. He didn't know how to _deal_ with this any better than Spyro did. And Spyro thinks about what it would be like, to see the insect standing up against Cynder. Which… Spyro didn't know if Sparx would actually _do_ that, but…

Nobody knew the answers. Nobody knew the way out of this. Nobody knew how to defeat Cynder or what she was trying to do or even what she really _was_. Nobody knew how to get Ignitus away from her or how to stop whatever Cynder wanted to do. Nobody knew if Ignitus was even…

_No. Not that. Don't even think about that._

…Nobody knew whether the prophecy was real or just some ancient bit of dragon lore passed down to give people hope where none existed before.

_The prophecy did not foretell the destruction before us_, Volteer had said. The prophecy has missed out a lot of things. Maybe it was all just garbage. A one-in-a-million coincidence.

What was so special about being _purple_, anyway? Lots of _dragonflies_ were purple…

'Uh… Spyro?' Sparx was doing a lot of… fluttering up there. 'Buddy, time out? Seriously. You can stop it with the crackling and the burning an' the singeing of my wings, now.'

'I don't know _how_.' Spyro whispered. He wasn't sure if that was an answer to his own question or to Sparx's. Maybe both. Maybe neither. It was getting kind of hard to care.

'What do you mean, you don't know how? Spyro, you're freaking me now. Forget what I said before, I was completely wrong. You're not getting weirder by the second. You're going a little slower than that; it's more of a gradual and eternally freaky process.'

That was true. It'd been true for a long time, though, maybe since before this whole thing started. Not a dragonfly. Not_ really_, anyway. He guessed that he'd always known that, deep down inside, but when you spend your whole life pretending, or just aren't sure _what_ you are at all, but only have one thing to go on then… you get used to doing what's expected of you.

But he believed what they taught him to believe. Because they're the ones who raised him, after all. Took him in when he wasn't their own, helped him grow up, told him over and over that the weight and lack-of-flight issues wouldn't be a problem forever. _'Is this what you were thinking then, mom? Did you know… oh-kay, never mind.' _Keep your nose clean, (okay, so he _believed_ in what they taught him, that didn't always mean he _did_ it, exactly). Use your gifts wisely. Never give up just because things get a little difficult, but they never said what happened when somebody else got hurt because of it.

_Ignitus. _

Spyro felt small, even in the wake of the most powerful Fury attack he'd ever let loose in his life. Wonderful.

'Spyro…'

'Uh, yeah, earth to Spyro, feel free to return to the surface world anytime you feel like it.'

When Sparx was worried (or frightened, or disturbed or angry or pretty much anything else that was bad) he covered it up with jokes and sarcasm. He'd _always_ been that way. That was what he was doing now. Covering up. Spyro didn't fall for it (Sparx flickered back and forth through the air like he was on some kind of honeydew kick whenever he got nervous, for one thing). But… the truth of it was he was finding it difficult to keep track of anything he was thinking right now. Like all the anger –or guilt, if Terrador was to be believed– had built up inside and was messing with his brain.

'It's nothing… I'm fine, Sparx.' He looked over in Terrador's direction. 'Okay, so I failed that one. Wrong move, no control over gravity.'

'Uhuh… buddy I place about as much faith in that as I do your definition of "clean finish".

'I said it doesn't _matter, _Sparx.'

Terrador had sat down where he'd been standing.

'There is a saying amongst dragons,' he said. 'One I first heard from Cyril, though don't let slip that I said so: _Everything Matters_. Particularly the things which are most difficult to do.'

'Everything…?'

'Yes.'

Spyro blinked and even Sparx shuffled a little in a creepy sense of deja vu. 'Nothing worthwhile… is ever easy. I understand that.'

'Yes. Especially when it comes to your friends.'

'And family,' Sparx put in, bluntly. 'Yeah, let's not go forgetting that here, okay? Family's great. Family rocks. Even if you are a total odd one out with weight and hover issues. 'Cause _this_ dragonfly ran through fire, ice heat, creepy giant bugs and killer steam trains for the mauve one. Seriously, what have I gotta do to convince you people? Now the _Atlawa_, _they_ know how to treat a bug—'

'Sparx be quiet,' Terrador said bluntly.

'See, _they_ wouldn't have said that to me.'

'**_Sparx_**.'

'Shutting up. Gotcha.'

Friends were important, Spyro swallowed, shaking the last of the flame off his claws. He could still feel them burning but now it was better than before while also being about ten times worse. _I was the coward who ran away. _'Sorry,' he whispered.

He still didn't know who he was saying it to. Sparx for freaking him out even though Sparx just pretended not to be, Terrador for disobeying the rules of his exercise, Ignitus for… whatever mess Ignitus was in right now.

Terrador's head tilted in the direction of the training arena.

They hadn't disappeared as destroyed enemies usually did. The wreckage and remains of dozens of wooden skeletons lay scattered about the room, still singed and smouldering from the power of the fury. Spyro had never seen something like that before. Usually the enemies disappeared so quickly when they died he felt a chill running through the bone framework of his wings and ring down his tail.

'Okay that… was probably overkill,' he said, after a long moment. '_I _did all _that_?'

'I imagine you've been wreaking just such havoc on Cynder's forces for quite a while, young one.' Terrador's tone is almost a compliment. 'Though you could easily have accomplished it with the appropriate element, had you focussed more and not allowed anger and guilt to defeat you.

'I. I guess I didn't realise. I always just tried to get everyone out alive.' Spyro grimaced. 'So why couldn't I do this with Cynder?'

'Perhaps because Cynder is not merely another dark minion. She is the greatest creation. Nobody can explain her origins and few can comprehend her construction. Perhaps she truly is nothing but darkness in its purest form. She is a remarkable adversary. But perhaps, so will you be.'

'So was Ignitus afraid? When he stopped her attacking _me_?'

I don't doubt it. It's true what I said –a warrior can face fear and overcome it, but courage sometimes requires a level of skill to account for the confidence necessary to defeat the _source_ of that fear.'

'…You know we've already got one crazy dragon guy to talk like a thesaurus, pal.'

'What he means, Sparx.' Spyro managed a smile. 'Is that just because I don't ant to be scared of Cynder, doesn't mean she's not dangerous. She'll always be dangerous.' _And I'll always be afraid…_

'Yeah, right. I knew that.'

'It's sometimes hard to believe in the ideas that were implanted in you, when the one who inspired them isn't there. Many battles have been lost after the loss of great leaders, Spyro. However, that is never a total certainty. Nor is it necessarily the case here. We lost that belief also, a long time ago, Spyro. Wars raged, we lost our warriors and often their ideals, their beliefs, died with them.' Spyro didn't say anything and Terrador didn't seem to be expecting him to. 'Until you, you see, Spyro. We had no reason to continue.'

Spyro thought about what Ignitus said the first time he saw the world where the dragons used to live.

'**_I can't, Ignitus… I just learned what I am.'_**

'**_You can, Spyro, you can.' _**

What he could have meant, though, was: **_"you have to." _**

'I _am_ hope, right?' Spyro said, and it wasn't really a question. 'That's what Ignitus said I was. Because I'm _the_ _purple dragon_ and I'm alive when all the others aren't.' He looked up. 'I wasn't the only one, was I?'

'No.'

'And what exactly happened to all these other hatchling guys, anyway? Sparx asked, direct as ever. 'I mean did Cynder, you know…'

'Did Cynder kill all the others, like me?' Spyro finished the question.

Terrador didn't try to evade the point. '…Not precisely. They were dead long before hatching, Spyro. They never got to see the light beyond their shells. I wasn't there. I was forming our defences at the entrance to the temple. But Ignitus told me of what happened. He saw them all dying, before they crumbled back into the raw magical energy they were born from.'

'All of them?'

'As far as we are aware.' Terrador shifted so that Spyro didn't have to look up quite as much to see his face. 'But not _you_. The ancestors must have watched over you that day.'

The anger was still pounding and he knew by now that fighting wouldn't make it go away. If anything, it only made it worse, but Spyro clenched his claws against the dirt nonetheless. They weren't shaking anymore, though. That was probably good.

_Why are we relying on some old story and unproven prophecy, anyway? Is _that_ why all this is happening? Is that why Ignitus got hurt or… or worse? _

'Now we're all doomed either way. Even if I win there aren't anymore dragons to come after me. Ignitus knew that, but… he _still_ believed in me. That made _me_ believe, too, Terrador. And it didn't matter if I was the last one or not, or if I didn't quite know who _I _was yet. Because… Because I had to _try_.'

'There is an air of good faith necessary in any voice of courage, is that not so?' Terrador said. Spyro could only approximate that meaning, but it kind of sounded as if he understood.

Of course he did, though. How many had these four guardians seen die on lack of faith alone?

'I… guess.'

'Um, what I just said about the Volteer guy and the speech thing…' Sparx started. He didn't get far though before Spyro and Terrador gave a '_Sparx be quiet_,' glare in perfect unison.

And Spyro understood. It didn't make if feel any easier, knowing that, but… it was worth knowing. It wasn't just anger at his inability to act, or guilt because he'd let it happen. His guilt went deeper than that. The first person who'd ever tried to show him just who he was, who _believed_ in him, no matter how bad it all it was.

Who got shot down into oblivion by some insane dragon made out of badness itself. Ignitus had needed him.

_It's my fault. She'll kill him. What other use could she… _

The pieces of the puzzle fell and clicked into place. 'Oh, no.'

'What? What is it now?' Sparx looked like he was probably preparing himself for another Fury attack. 'I've seen that look on your face before, Spyro, I don't _like_ that look.'

'I think maybe we've been looking at this wrong,' Spyro muttered under his breath. Terrador's expression because suddenly more interested. Spyro looked up. 'All these portals. If Cynder…' he looked up, aware that his eyes were widening pretty rapidly. 'What if it wasn't me after all?' he whispered.

'What? Wasn't you who just set the temple on fire in one shot?' Sparx asked, bluntly.

'No. I mean it wasn't _me_ Cynder wanted back in the Munitions Forge.'

Terrador's expression changed again from curious to undoubtedly nervous. 'Spyro, are you telling me that you think you were being used as some kind of…'

'Bait.' Sparx finished, bluntly. His claws scraped on the stony floor. And now the anger and guilt was changing into something infinitely more disturbing.'A _lure_, so she could get the last dragon of the elements.'

'And… all of this means what?' Sparx asked. Only this time there wasn't any sign that he was being sarcastic.

'_It means she doesn't care about any prophecies, for one thing' _Spyro thought. _'The dark master doesn't believe in it, or he has something stronger than it. The gateway the others were talking about…'_

'I won't pretend we hadn't considered the possibility. Until told otherwise we had assumed Ignitus's freedom was your doing, Spyro. If it wasn't…'

'Then there's still another portal,' Spyro said. 'And she still needs to power it. Now she can.' And maybe, then,he'd been used as a playing piece in some elaborate game. The anger hadn't been easy to think though, but guilt… that was a little easier to make sense out of.

And it _was_ making sense now, in a way he in no way wanted it to.

_You know she will. What else is she going to do with him? Unless…_

'Well. This is starting to make some very freaky sense, now, isn't it?' Sparx asked, blankly.

Neither of the two dragons uttered a word in response.

* * *

**_"Spyro: It's my fault. I failed Ignitus when he needed me most. It's just that the sight of Cynder so close it just… it…'_**

**_Sparx: Made your heart stop? Put ice in your veins? Scared the crud out of you?_**

**_Spyro: …Yeah. Something like that._**

**_Terrador: All warriors feel fear at one time or another Spyro there's no shame in that... But only the most valiant amongst us can face that fear and master it. I saw you on munitions forge, Spyro.You are one such warrior."_**

**_-The Legend of Spyro: A New Beginning. _**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two here, standard disclaimers apply. Still un-beated and I'm still ad-libbing a bit. I haven't posted updates on this as often as I'd have liked.**

**Set in "The Legend of Spyro: A New Beginning" universe.**

**

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**

Two.

**_"Every generation must pass the torch onto the next, Terrador. Our time is done." _**

****

- **_Volteer, from "The Legend of Spyro: A New Beginning." _**

Spyro had come to a conclusion: Cynder's minions were insane.

Not only did they run at you, screaming and waving their claws around in just the way that crazy things _usually_ did, but they also got back up and _kept_ running at you after you'd sent them flying three times in a row. Spyro was getting tired of it. The damn things just wouldn't stop coming.

Spyro supposed he should have expected it. He was in Cynder's lair, after all. The place was formed mostly out of crystal and dirt, it seemed. Trapped in a perpetual twilight where stone towers reared up against the horizon like monsters. All of it strange and totally unnatural. Manmade (or minionmade) structures mixed in with the landscape, almost as if the buildings had grown out of the crystal and been chipped into their current shapes, he thought. He didn't say this out loud. There was no reason to give Sparx more weird stuff to bug him with. Spyro was still getting gip about the icy-waterfall incident back in Tall Plains.

Terrador may have made it _sound_ like Concurrent Skies (that was what he'd called it, right?) was uninhabited but Spyro had chosen to believe otherwise and stocked up on spirit gems before even setting claw in the place. He wasn't regretting that choice now.

Still, all the spirit gems in the world weren't going to help when you were being out numbered twenty to one...

'Watch out for that one there, buddy!'

The warning was too late. As usual. Funny, being able to fly over the heads of their attackers the way he did, Spyro would've figured Sparx to be a little more… observant. (As in able to warn him of an oncoming attack _before _Spyro had been whacked about the head with… whatever those gorilla things were whacking him with.)

'_Not_ helping, Sparx.' Spyro sucked a breath in and breathed it out again burning. A minion fell back clutching its face in pain and Spyro had to wince a little at the sight of its singed flesh.

'Well _excuse_ me, saviour boy. Forgive me if my highly acute dragonfly senses have been turned a little _off_ lately by all the close encounters with –whoa, there's another one!'

This time, Sparx's warning was noted quicker. Spyro dispatched the oncoming minion with a sloppily placed tail strike, sending it skidding close to the edge of the cliff. Not as close to it as he'd have liked (three or four metres _past_ the edge of the cliff would've been more like it), but it was disintegrating into crystal form, anyway. Another went out the same way and again, fell short of the platform. They were gone, now.

**'**_**A chaotic style, Spyro, but you got the job done. Not bad.'** _

Spyro ignored the memory.

Ignitus had called spirit gems _a gift from the ancestors_, but you had to actually _feel_ it to know exactly what that _meant_ to a dragon. He'd tried explaining it to Sparx but he just didn't grasp it and Spyro… couldn't really put how it felt into words. "_The power of a thousand suns_" hardly did it justice. Even a single crystal could set your hair standing on end… if he'd had hair.

'I never stopped to wonder why they do that,' he muttered, thoughtfully.

'Why they do what?' Sparx hovered close to his shoulder again, shuddering a little as thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. Or maybe it was the beating of giant wings, Spyro thought, or something else equally dangerous to their health. 'Run at you like rabid squirrels with fangs and various sharp objects?'

'No. Well, yeah, that too, but… the crystals.' Spyro frowned. '_Why_ do they turn into crystals? If spirit gems are a gift from the ancestors, then… we're getting rewarded for beating bad guys up? I mean, where did these things come from in the first place?'

'I dunno, is it important?' Sparx shrugged. 'Least then you can do something good with em.'

'You make it sound like I enjoy this,' Spyro kicked slightly at the crystal ground underfoot.

'And you're denying it, big guy?' Sparx was visibly grinning in that infuriating way he had.

Okay so he honestly couldn't deny it, but… 'No…Just… the ancestor's must've had a funny sense of humour, that's all.' He grinned. 'I bet they would've liked you.'

'Oh, ha, ha, dragon boy. Can we just… get on with it and get out of here, already?'

It seemed… quiet, for now, but Spyro was getting smarter. He knew better than to trust the silence, or expect it to stay that way for long. The crystal-like earth crunched under his claws as they left the smooth ground of the first… he could only describe it as a giant _elevator _which had taken them this high up -another manmade structure in a strange supernatural environment. He felt the worry rising. Someone –or something– was bound to hear them coming sooner or later.

This place was so weird that it really beggared belief. Then again, everything in the world had seemed pretty… big, and not just because he was smaller than a lot of the other people in it. The Dragonfly Swamp had been a pretty small place. Close knit communities of small insects (and one "big_"_, purple one) trying to live in murky waters with Frogweeds and Mushroom Beasts. Coming out of that world and into this huge one of temples and crystals and giant flying dragons, it was no wonder Spyro had been a little overwhelmed, but _this_ place...Shiny grey marble would suddenly be replaced by crunching crystal sand and then by concrete, beautiful and freaky all in the same breath. Done to Cynder's taste, no doubt.

'…Still don't like it,' Sparx said.

'_Still_ doesn't matter. Ignitus needs us.'

'I'm not _complaining_, I'm just saying it'd be easier if she was smaller… a lot smaller.'

Spyro resisted the urge to roll his eyes and just kept on walking. 'This is where you'll find her; where you're gonna have to fight her. You know that, right? So I'm supposed to figure that all this–' Sparx waved a hand at the now empty field of battle. '-Is just the warm up exercise, isn't it? Lead up to the big showdown. Preliminary fireworks, etcetera?'

…Yeah. Something like that.' Spyro made sure he was using the _what-are-you-getting-at?_ Tone of voice he saved for occasions like this. 'What about it?'

'Just wondering, is all.'

'Wondering what?' Okay, now he was getting a little annoyed. This wasn't _like_ Sparx, after all…

'Hey don't push it. Just wanna make sure you know what the hell we're in for. I mean I've been telling you from the start that we're doomed, okay? And then I think about you and that whole… _Fury of Islander's Freaky… Fire of Whateverness_ back in the temple… and that's just what _you_ can do. I mean, lets face it; you're not a big guy and Cynder? Who knows who or what taught her stuff and what she could do to you. Don't blame me if she pounds ya into a fine paste, or something.'

Spyro smiled a little. He wasn't sure why exactly, because… 'You're scared.'

'Well duh! We're dealing with giant evil dragon chicks here, oh mauve one. Don't tell me you're not? You're the one who flew for his life back on Boyzitbig.'

'I seem to remember you did a lot of running too, Sparx.'

He knew they should shut up, what with being in the middle of Cynder's lair with bad guys on every side, and all, but… he needed to talk. Or to _hear_ talking. That was one thing about Sparx's endless chattering – it stopped you feeling lonely, and Spyro couldn't imagine anyone who lived in concurrent skies not feeling lonely. The whole place was like some kind of misery trap. "_Where hope goes to die_", Terrador had called it. Spyro had only been here a couple of hours, and he already knew too well what Terrador had meant.

Spyro stopped for a moment. 'Do you hear that, Sparx?'

The sound of paws and vague chattering reached them from ahead and Spyro felt Sparx shrink just as little. 'Uh boy, I wish I _didn't_.'

'Come on…' Spyro felt the tickle of electricity and fire mingling in his throat, like each power had a mind of its own and wanted to be used. To get out whatever remained of the rage he'd felt back at the temple, training with Terrador in powers he still couldn't master.

Spyro selected between them and felt the earth literally move a little under his feet as the power welled up inside him for the sixteenth time since they'd arrived in Concurrent. 'We'll deal with them.'

'My tail section we will, lets just run already, Spyro…'

Spyro ignored him. They both knew there was no sense in running, anyway. Spyro saw their reflections in the crystal on the walls –which meant that they had already seem his (or heard Sparx's chattering) and had been after them for a while now.

'_Damn it, the little stalkers are after us, again. Do they ever quit?'_

'_No,' _Spyro could almost hear Ignitus saying in his head again. _' They don't know the meaning of the words surrender, Spyro. They have not been bred to recognize it.' _

But then again, Spyro thought, (thinking of days in the swamp and encounters with Frogweeds back in the days when those ugly green creatures had actually been scary,) neither had he.

* * *

_She did not show mercy. _

_She never had and she never would. Mercy was a strange enemy to her. Something for those who wanted themselves to be overrun from the beginning. Mercy was the thing which had locked her master away for eternity, though he failed to explain to her exactly why –and how– this was. She never asked, for she had no need. His word was all she required. Mercy was the thing which let cowardly dragons escape into the swamps and prevent you from obtaining your goal._

_She sat and watched the growing crystal which she had set –as gently as she ever set anything– into the machine that sucked out the power. She didn't pay attention to the power source and he did not pay attention to her. He sat gazing in an opposite direction, seemingly surrendered to the inevitable fact that there was no escape from this prison. _

_She had not killed him when he attacked her. She needed him, for one thing. Later, perhaps… _

_He still didn't look at her. Likely, he was afraid to do so. _

'_I wonder, Ignitus… what that little one thinks he is doing in my lair.' _

_Still he didn't look at her. Cynder was still deciding whether or not to kill him. With the other three she had had no opportunity to do so, but now… 'I know he's here. Him and the gnat. They are coming to find you, did you know that? Your attempt to keep him away from me was in vain. He will come, as long as you are here. You don't want that, do you? He can mess with my minion as much as he likes. There will always be more minions. But there's only one of him. They'll kill him in the end, or else he'll surrender. He knows he can still turn back and I might as well leave him in peace.'_

_Still no answer. His ignoring her was becoming slightly infuriating. At least the electrical guardian had been more entertaining, what with his many varieties of reproach. The creature seemed to be a living _textbook_ on something utterly unknown. _

_Ignitus continued to ignore her. His expression remained stolid and silent. Anyone would have thought it didn't _hurt_, having your magical essence ripped out of you this way._

'_Fine, then. I don't exactly need you to talk, after all.'_

_He had been stronger than she had anticipated. Catching her off guard had been a part of it, of course. She'd been… distracted. That smaller dragon, the purple one. _

_She_ had _tried. She had no wish for her master to assume she hadn't tried her hardest to rip that… hatchling to pieces._

_When Cynder was a newborn, not long broken free from the egg, she had been frightened, by one of her own (soon to be, anyway) minions. Short as the emotion had been, she still remembered it. The large, leering face; its claws prodding her until she bit. She had felt, in that very moment, her master's approval and she knew at that moment precisely how fear should be conquered. Nowadays she had less reason than any to fear, when she was mostly considered to be the source of it all. _

_She knew that some creatures often feared smaller ones, but this was _always_ a learned trait. It was not possible or logical, to fear something that was smaller and weaker than you, yet for some creatures it was true. Often the minions would run in terror from a tiny, venomous creature in the swamps, or cringe at the teeth of a Frogweed. It was disgustingly embarrassing, besides being pointless. Cynder didn't care about those creatures, though, and she had no need to understand why they reacted the way they did. At least, she never had… _

_But_ he _frightened her._

_It was ridiculous, but… that familiarity in his eyes was something she couldn't shake. Something which spoke to her through the memory of that broken shell and minion's leer. Something she saw in the eyes of the last elemental guardian – the guardian of fire who she could defeat, just as she defeated all those who dared to challenge her. _

_So maybe – just maybe – it_ had _been mercy she showed when she_ allowed_ that foolish fire guardian to force her from the sky. When she had _let him_ smash her down against the rocks. When he had _known_ that she was stronger than him, and bigger, and could tear him to pieces if that was what she wished and would have done so if she hadn't needed his power. Rather mercy than fear. _

_And yet, he still attacked her. _

_For the purple one._

_Good _grief_, that sounded so melodramatic. Surely something so ridiculously exaggerated could never be of any real threat._

'**The prophecies spoke…' **

_Cynder shuddered the disturbing thought out of her memory, suddenly realising what it was that scared her so much. _

_One thing she _hadn't_ been planning on letting Ignitus do was speak to her. But he had spoken anyway. Once – when his teeth had briefly gripped her throat, and again –as he tackled her into the molten mess of Boyzitbig's fiery surface. _

_This was what he had said as his teeth had bitten. "The prophecies spoke… I cannot let you harm him, Cynder." _

_She didn't wonder how or why he knew her name, because it wasn't important. Anyway, everyone knew her on the islands these days. _

"_Forgive me," he said as magma burned beneath her and she tricked him into thinking she was harmed beyond defence. He was old, haggard and easily fooled. The fire of battle had been gone from him before they even hit the ground. He had been easily defeated, after he realised his mistake. _

_Perhaps he had already known he could not defeat her. (He seemed to understand that well enough_ now _when he was suspended in her crystal prison). But if that were the case, Cynder thought, striking the tip of her tail against the ragged crystals scattered about the rooftops, then why had he done it? What was so important about some purple runt that he needed to be saved so badly? For whatever the reason, the Guardian of Fire_ would _have died to protect that cowardly infant from her. For no reason she could understand._

_That thought had… frightened her. _

_No matter, though. She knew how to defeat her fears. _

'_Is this… what you want, Cynder?' _

_Cynder let an amused smile tweak her jaws. So he_ was _alive, after all. She'd been hoping he would make that statement. 'Is_ what_ what I want, Ignitus?' _

'_To be left alone?'_

_Cynder felt her smile fading as quickly as it had come. 'Yes, damn it, it is.' She let herself sound more… emotional than she had imagined. The outbreak shamed her, but only for a second. Her feelings were what gave her strength, her master said. Her hate, her rage… why should she hide them from this old fool who couldn't even fight to protect his own life, much less anyone else's? 'Why would I have it any other way? Why do you think I live_ here_, old dragon, where not even my minions can touch me?'_

'_It must be lonely.' His voice wasn't broken by pain or exhaustion. Cynder was really starting to wonder if she had the crystal's power-drawing strength up high enough. _

_You asked my forgiveness,' she said, 'why__? Why should I forgive you anything?'_

'_I never meant for all this to happen as it has, Cynder… you understand that.' It wasn't a question. _

'_Yes. I've_ always _understood, Ignitus. The whole chamber was smashed leaving behind only my egg, and one other whole. You chose which egg to save and I was left to rot in the dark master's clutches.' She was laughing, though she wasn't sure why. She remembered the minions laughing after watching Spyro –that_ was _his name, wasn't it? – blasting their companions and supposed allies to the ground. They did it because they delighted in the pain of others, allies or not. But how could she delight in her own pain? 'You just wrongly assumed I would care.'_

'_Perhaps... there are things I should not… have depended on,' Ignitus said. It was a stupid thing to admit to her. 'You, after all, were never mentioned in prophecy.'_

'_Maybe that's because I choose to make my own prophecy rather than sticking to the skin of someone else's, like some dragons do.' Cynder said. 'Like prophecies about ancient dragons and wars… and the purple dragon, who ended them all?' She sneered. 'Obviously not even you're old enough to know about what happened back then. Superstition and hearsay.' She snorted a wisp of smoke through her nose. She rarely did that. It was a childish habit, after all, and she was no hatchling, but… _

'_Perhaps... there is more to him,' Ignitus said after a long – and somewhat pained, she thought – hesitation. 'Than just what is said in an ancient prophecy, Cynder. Perhaps he seeks you now… for different reasons to what you assume.'_

_Cynder blinked, slowly and deliberately, as realisation hit. 'You _do_ love him, don't you?' Cynder interrupted. _

_He didn't react obviously to her words, but now he didn't have to. She felt the fear in his eyes as strongly as though it were her own. She already knew everything she needed to know. _

_All those eggs destroyed in one foul swoop. And only two had remained. One hers. The other Spyro's. All that remained of what should have been a clutch of dozens. For the first time, Cynder entertained the thought of how that must have felt for the Guardians assigned to protect them, and she began to understand… _

_It wasn't the purple dragon's powers Ignitus wanted to protect. It was just the purple dragon himself. And love was something which_ nobody _needed to fear, so her master said._

_She knew how it worked. Why one protected another and why Spyro would, indeed, come to the centre of her lair to face her down. And it had nothing particular to do with prophecy or ancient legend, and everything to do with his guardian. Cynder smiled a slow, cold smile. _

'…_This is going to be very entertaining,' she said.

* * *

_

**Reviews and concrit are appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three here. Ad-libbing is fun. (As is writing the groucy old dragon elders.) By now you're well aware of my standard disclaimers apply statement. Obviously that hasn't changed in the last couple of weeks. They're still not mine. My hats off to whoever it is.**

* * *

Three.

**_"Just be yourself. It's all any of us can do." – "Dragonfly Mom", from The Legend of Spyro: A New beginning._**

'You did well, that day in the temple when the dark ones came. Did I ever tell you?'

The words sounded rather… strange, coming from Volteer. Maybe because the only other time in their life that Terrador had heard Volteer talk in a sentence made almost entirely of single syllables, they'd all been convinced the world was falling down around them. Granted that had been exactly what was happening, in a way. At least for them, and for the brood of one hundred and fifty dragon eggs –all doomed to die the night the Dark Master's forces attacked the Dragon Temple.

'_**Save them. The Dark Armies have come.' **_

Crushed and broken, split and spilt across the temple floor, unborn hatchlings and all… Terrador had to visibly force the thought away. Because in all the wars and battles he had witnessed in his lifetime, in all the lost comrades and ancient duels to the death, no memory of his was nearly as terrible as that one. The death of an entire generation at the hands of pure evil.

'You didn't,' he said. 'But then, the statement was not necessary, Volteer. Still, it's appreciated. Though it's safe to say none of us were good enough.'

'That point is entirely incontestable, my friend. Yet it may also be redundant. Excessive. Unnecessary. Discouraging. Un—'

'I get the point, Volteer.'

'…My apologies.'

'No matter.'

'It _does_ happen to be true, though, Terrador.' Volteer said, after another moment of silence. 'The past cannot be altered however much we may wish it—'

'—But the future is yet to be shaped,' Terrador finished. 'That's one of the oldest sayings carved into these walls, Volteer. It's one I still live by. Why else would we continue a battle where all hope is lost for our species, regardless of whether we fall to Cynder.

'I would've had my own doubts, you know. It's a proven fact that every last individual to ever go up against the monumental wrath of Cynder's Ice King has experienced an immediate reduction of their lifespan. Not that many had _tried_, mind you…'

'And did you expect it?' Terrador asked with amusement. 'Spyro, I mean. Did you expect a dragon of that size to defeat a thing of such power?'

'Terrador, you already _know_ the answer to that question also, why do you insist on repeating yourself?'

'Perhaps because it is necessary to remind ourselves of past failures, no matter hoe redundant they may seem. Spyro is young.'

'Indeed…One more thing that confounds me, Terrador' Volteer said after a few moments of anxious, but companionable silence.

'Yes?'

'Why didn't she kill you?'

Terrador's look at that question said it all. 'It's not an insensible query, Terrador. After all with the power and influence exerted on her by the evil of the Dark Master, _surely_ it's she should have experienced no qualms with your immediate destruction back on Munitions Forge. Yet the only one she attempted to kill via any means was Spyro, and that was possible merely a method by which she could bait out the final piece of her puzzle. It seems you of all of us drove yourself closest to the risk of being exterminated unless we count… unless current absences are taken into account. To be honest I myself am trying not to entertain the possibility of anything happening to…'

'Ignitus,' Terrador muttered.

'Yes, Terrador. Ignitus.' Volteer looked up at the stars visible from the doorway of the temple. 'She has taken us all and killed _none_. Not once, not even after we had exhausted our usefulness and no longer had a function, a meaning, a reason for our continued existence, a… purpose.'

Terrador's smile became grim as he realised that freeing the Dark Master might perhaps have been the only purpose they had left in this world.

The only purpose that _Cynder_ had…

'We have watched her murder all manner of creatures in their hundreds, Volteer,' Terrador said. 'We know well what she is capable of.'

'Precisely,' Volteer answered, calmly. 'So… why not this time?'

'Maybe we both know the answer to that question, too,' Terrador suggested.

'Or… Perhaps it's for the same reasons that… a certain elemental dragon in childhood opted to leave certain _other_ elemental dragons alone, when he discovered that they were not _quite_ as willing to lay down and be insulted as he had first anticipated.'

Terrador's expression tensed in embarrassment. 'Volteer…'

'Oh now lets not go hopping around the point, Terrador, it's all in the past now, all in a childhood we are so old we barely remember. Still... I do remember you being quite the brash, uncompunctious, self-absorbed…'

'Volteer—'

…'Exceptionally impolite, bad tempered and rude individual. One wondered why people ever put up with it. You might be pleased to hear I can't imagine you as the same dragon then as you are now. You're so much more composed these days. Understanding, sensitive, aware of your flaws, unbiased and generally, Terrador, if I may say so: a lot less cruel.'

Only Volteer, Terrador thought, dryly. Only Volteer could put the past in words of such aplomb and yet with such utter sincerity. For a dragon with a tendency to utilise the dragonish language like some kind of thesaurus, Volteer rarely exaggerated.

'Are you quite _finished_, my friend?'

'Quite. Apologies if my stating the facts brought back some less than savoury memories. What I'm trying to say, of course, is that… for all her actions, Cynder remains one of our kind. She is a dragon, Terrador. She is one of us.'

'No longer,' Terrador sighed, with a sense of resignation. 'No. No longer, Volteer. We have lost that opportunity.'

'You attempted to form conversation with her too, then?'

'Yes. While imprisoned on the Forge. I tried, but… she refused to listen to anything. Even the old messages and songs of the ancients. The Voice of the Ancestors is dead within her.'

Volteer opened his mouth and paused, contemplating his point, before speaking. 'Well… technically, Terrador. The voice of the ancestors is _dead_ within _all_ of us. That defines the word, does it not? They would not be the ancestors if they were not already dead.'

It was, actually, all Terrador could do to laugh at that statement. 'Volteer, you'll be glad to hear you still never fail to amuse.'

'Oh really? Well… that's a good thing, I suppose,' Volteer said, though he didn't actually sound entirely sure.

'You also remember, no doubt,' Terrador added, 'which of us it was that happened to knock some sense into that brash, youthful dragon with no manners?'

Volteer smiled.

'I thought as much,' Terrador muttered. 'I'm not sure what kind of a reflection this has upon Spyro. We expect much from him. Partly because of the prophecy… partly also because he is the only one left. And he seems to approach it with doubt and courage in equal measures. _Usually_ equal.'

'Yes. But we don't _tell_ him much, now, do we, Terrador?' Volteer's tone held a touch of conspiracy that was very unlike him. 'And perhaps the fate of the world is one step too far?'

'I am not certain,' Terrador shook his head. He had seen Spyro, on Munitions Forge. He had heard from the other dragons exactly how far the hatchling's powers went. _'As if the lost power of his entire brood had been condensed into him alone at the moment of their deaths._

…_And what of Cynder?'_

'Though that said,' Volteer continued, oblivious to his friend's internal monologue, 'the _lightning_ coming from his mouth did turn out to be a bit of a shock. No pun intended. Not that it did much _good_, mind you. Took me four minutes fifty-three seconds of yelling and floundering before he caught on to the fact that electricity was immediately adsorbed by the creature's main structure and therefore had little to no affect. He doesn't necessarily listen as well as we might have hoped he would. Much power and little focus, Terrador. Much power…' Ignitus wandered away mumbling this to himself.

'Now who does _that_ statement remind me of?' Terrador said to himself with a trace of a smile.

* * *

There comes a time (and she was more than aware of this, having lost two of them already in one swoop of nature) when all parents have to let their children go. Usually, by this point, the children are not children anymore and no longer _need_ their mother to look after them.

The fact that one of your sons was capable of defending himself by shooting _fire_ from his mouth (as bizarre as that was) and that the other son would likely not wander far away from that one, was… something of a comfort. Still Annera couldn't help but wonder (or rather, worry) whenever she noticed their absence from the family home. Which was often.

She had not been lying when she told Spyro what lay beyond the swamp land: '_Far away, where wars rage on and on and the innocent seem to always pay the price_'. He had asked her about it, the night they had told him The Truth about his heritage –namely that they didn't have any clue what he was or where he came from, least of all why he suddenly found himself able to breathe fire from the mouth on impulse. "_Whoosh, flame city!_" as he had put it. Annera still smiled when she remembered the look on her children's faces as they said that.

But she remembered even more clearly the look on her _husband's_ face. The look which told her that it would no longer be possible for them to pretend Spyro was their own flesh and blood. Perhaps, she had thought at the time, it would be better for him to understand that he _wasn't_ some strange, mutant dragonfly-gone-wrong, twisted –as so many were, these days, it seemed– by the concoctions of strange chemicals that had begun to appear in the waters of the swamp, but was in fact, not a _dragonfly_ at all.

_Too big. Can't fly. Can't even _hover_. Wings that don't work, eyes that can't see vin the dark. Too big to _live_ anywhere_. None of these things had meant _anything_ to Annera.

Spyro hadn't quite seen it that way.

'_I just learned that my home is out _there_ somewhere. I'm not leaving you _behind_ I'm just leaving you where you belong.'_

'_Pfft. Weeell I thought I belonged with you. 'Cause I'm always _with_ you, but you know I guess I was _wrong_. You know I'm sure I'm _wrong_ about a lot of things.'_

A part of Annera had understood her other child's anger. Surely though, after finding the truth, Spyro would begin to feel more accepted as what he _was_?

She was a dragonfly. Her parents had been born in this swamp, in this very shelter of wood and tree roots, as had she, and as had her children and so –she had expected– would _their own_ children be born… that said, they'd never actually gotten round to… discussing the details of exactly how _that_ would've worked for certain people but still…

Annera couldn't help but laugh at the thought. At the memory of the _look_ on her children's faces every time the issue of _having_ children and exactly where they came from and other such delicate issues had even came _close_ to the surface of conversation…

'_Moooom! Dad's trying to give us that talk again!'_

'_Why does he _bother_? I mean there aren't any other dragonflies in this part of the swamp anyway. Mom, tell him there aren't any other dragonflies in this part of the swamp anyway!' _

He would always be her son. He would always be one of them.

Wherever her children were right now, Annera hoped they were staying out of trouble.

Sighing, she went back to coaxing the rogue Frogweeds out of their part of the swamp, and hoping that wherever her children were right now, Frogweed's were not being such a bother.

She hadn't expected what came next.

After all, how many times in your life do you expect to find your childhood home smashed to pieces beneath a sudden blast of fire and heat, and yourself thrown backwards into the mud covered rocks like...

…Well, like a bug against a rock face.

How many times do you expect to see your home hissing and burning before you, while you know, quite distinctively that your husband is still inside it? How often do you expect to look up and find yourself cowering before the ugliest most gruesome face you've ever seen, or find yourself being snatched up by a giant, half gloved hand and crushed into a small cage?

It was not in Annera's nature to scream at the unknown terrors lurking in the swamps.

She screamed anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Takes place post the first battle against Cynder. This chapter has focus on certain canonical events that are central to the _Legend of Spyro: A New Beginning_ storyline. The _most major spoilers_ of the game now lie ahead. Standard disclaimers apply. **

**NB: I'm not sure I'm happy with this title anymore. It seems to apply less than it did originally. I am taking alternative suggestions if anyone can come up with something good, feel free to IM me.

* * *

**

Four.

"**_There was something in her eyes, Ignitus. Something familiar." _**

"**_There should be, Spyro. You and Cynder share more than you know… It's time I told you the truth. All of it."_**

_**- Spyro and Ignitus, The Legend of Spyro: A New Beginning. **_

Dying wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be. Which was kind of a plus; because he had a pretty good imagination for that kind of stuff.

It was, however, still painful. Oddly… flexible and non-paralysed, but painful and he found himself wishing his body would get on with it and decide whether or not it was still alive.

Maybe the pain was a good thing. It seemed to suggest the former.

_'Guess I am still here after all,'_ he thought. He didn't know exactly _how_, though. After all, Cynder's bladed tail smashing violently into his face and the burn of marble skidding away beneath him had been pretty hard to miss and probably just as difficult to live through.

Unless, of course, that had been what Cynder wanted. Or if she hadn't cared either way.

'Sooo,' Sparx drolled sarcastically. 'At least we've confirmed your importance in the whole big scheme of the world, Spyro my man. Happy now?'

Spyro didn't answer. He was too busy trying to push the pain out of his head and get back to saving—

…Saving the world.

Oh. _Crap_.

'Where's Cynder?' he asked, before realising asking hurt. As did trying to sit up, and trying to stand up, and, eventually, succeeding in standing up.

'She flew man. Roof wise, as per usual. Like I said, remember? The chick doesn't know how to use doors.'

'_She tricked me. Baited_ _me_ _up here to find Ignitus, just like she baited Ignitus with_ me_. She knew I'd come. How could she not? And maybe _I_ knew it too, really, but I thought I could risk it…_

'_Stupid, Spyro, _stupid

'Urgh, okay so how long was I…'

'Hardly at all. Trust me, you _just_ missed her. By like a _second_, seriously. Shame.'

'Not funny, Sparx.'

'Y'think this is a good time for me to be joking, hero boy? You scared the living crud outta me. Try not to get hit by anymore of those sharp objects, okay? 'Cause I don't wanna be the one to have to explain it to mom.'

Spyro shook his head, shifting his gaze to Ignitus. The crystal prison had broken letting the dragon fall and even mostly drained of power Ignitus still looked very reluctant to surrender.

From being bait in a trap, to falling into a trap set precisely for you. Spyro wasn't sure which of those two was worse, and he just couldn't bring himself to argue with Sparx about it. He didn't especially want to argue with Ignitus either. Not now. Not after all this, only…

Only all of a sudden there was something he _had_ to know. So he looked the guardian right in the eyes and asked anyway. 'There was something in her eyes, Ignitus,' he said, without waiting. 'Something familiar.'

Ignitus didn't answer for a long second. He only stared at the dragon hatchling before him. His purple scales were too covered in dirt to glisten. But _alive_, thank the ancestors. Against all odds he _was_ alive and virtually unhurt, as were they all.

Because of Cynder's whims?

'There should be, Spyro… You and Cynder share more than you know.'

Spyro looked as confused by that as Ignitus had expected him to and he began to get the feeling he should have said this long ago. Spyro should have known…

_Still only a child. though. At least on the outside. What all_ this _has turned the_ inside _of him to, the Ancestors only know._

'It's time I told you the truth,' Ignitus said, feelingtired for the first time since he encountered Spyro on his way through the swamp land. 'All of it.'

* * *

_The Dragon Temple, Thirty Cycles Ago. _

_There had never been fire in the temple before. Not like this. Not beyond the control of a master of the element. _

_Master, indeed. There looked to be no_ masters _in the temple tonight. No true masters and no true Guardians. _True_ Guardians would have thought to hide the brood of eggs months earlier when they heard of the coming apocalypse, so that they did not now lie scattered and broken. The lights dimmed over the ruined remains of almost two hundred dragon eggs. Children. And now nothing was left of them but smashed shell and blood._

_Smashed armour and shielding lay on the floor, glistening faintly in the almost non-existent light. Asides from the burning of the fires, most light in the temple had been extinguished, a remnant of the world they knew. The shrine lay in ruins. In all it's history this had never happened before._ Ten _generations of dragons and never had there been such a full scale disaster. If there_ had _been, doubtless Ignitus would not have_ been_ there. None of them would have. The dragon race would have died out, maybe centuries before. _

_The Year of the Dragon was the most sacred event of their calendar. It held the key to their very survival in the eggs that were brought to them –crafted by magic in some distant world. There could be no second chances. The chances of their surviving to guard the next generation was minimal. The damage was done and would now have repercussions for the rest of dragon history. A history there would be no one left to record. _

_The deep sense of failure hung over him like a broken wing. _

_They had been looking for one egg, Ignitus knew. The one egg which had, thank the Ancestors, not even been in the temple. Now, that egg was drifting down the Silver River, on route to who-knew-where and draco-knew-what. But _alive_. Whatever damage they had done, the Dark Master's forces had_ not _entirely succeeded in what they came to do._ _So instead they_ _unfeelingly_ _dealt out their mission and left bloodshed in their wake._

_Volteer was by the doorway, slumped where there had once been an _actual_ door, now smashed wide open. Cyril nearby. There was no sign of Terrador._ 'No. I thought we were ready. I thought…

'I _thought_.'

_But thinking had not been enough. __Naïve overconfidence in their abilities would never be enough again. If they had known before… _

_There were still minions in the temple. He could hear them scurrying and squawking and ran towards the sound of their shrieks. He paused only briefly by Cyril and Volteer, to check there had not been another death amongst Dragon Elders. Finding that only the children had died tonight, he carried on. The Minions had overrun the dojo, hung from the ceiling and shelves, scratching and stabbing at the statue standing tall and proud in the temple. They couldn't damage it, though Ignitus was sure they were trying everything they could to do so. _

_If only the eggs had been as durable as the architecture. _

_The thought was so foul he felt ashamed of it. More than that, though, he was enraged. Angry at himself more than anything, but since harming himself in this state would have been anything but productive, he turned that rage on the remaining minions. _

_The last Guardian standing. They hadn't expected him, clearly having thought all Guardians to be down and probably not able to count past three. At least ten or twelve of the brutes paid for that oversight immediately in a swelling of fire. _

_I__t had been so long since Ignitus used his Fury, but he did so now, with as much force and courage as he had years earlier. No hesitation, no flickering of unlit embers. The Dark Master's minions scattered, screaming. Those who had not been killed instantly were racing in a frightened pain, their fur alight and blazing. _

_He struck again, smashing a larger minion against the temple wall. Swiping with his tail to slash it clean through it's fur. No mercy. _

'No more than they showed the children_.' _

_No more than they showed for the eggs, broken, battered, destroyed in the Guardian's stead. _

'A whole generation wiped out.'

_The minions moved like an organized rabble, chaos and order at the same time, but Ignitus had rage on his side. Determination and fury where they had nothing but arrogance and ignorance and cruelty. Or perhaps, their hate was a mutual sensation. When they tried to claw the scales from his sides with their bare teeth Ignitus didn't feel it. He merely knocked them away like so many insects. _

'Dragons, hatchlings, unborn, infants. Children. Just _children_. _Ours_...'

_How dare they do this? _

'How. _**Dare**_. They?'

_Oh yes. The hatred was most definitely mutual._

_It was as Ignitus shoved one of the beasts back into a temple wall with a sharp cry and a grunt of insult that he saw the Commander. _

_It stood in the doorway, leering from one working eye. Taller than most or the others and standing in the rubble of eggs that had been kicked about the dojo chamber. In its paws it clutched something black and…_

…_And egg shaped. _

'No.'

_Ignitus left the other minions to scatter in the flames and charged. _

_His Fury tonight felt was as powerful as when he was a youngster. But his speed was not so enduring. It seemed to take an eternity to cross the Dojo floor and minions were_ fast_, more agile when they had not been caught off guard. This one had known Ignitus was there all along and yet it had taken it's time, lazily selecting the egg from the brood while carelessly kicking at the other broken shells. Now, this one egg it held gently in both paws as it ran. Cradling it as if it were it's own child._

_By the time Ignitus reached the temple exit, the minion had already vanished, taking the last egg with it. Ignitus was left standing in the now echoing silence of the temple, his rage draining away along with his Fury Attack's aftermath. _

_One egg. One egg taken and Ignitus was not naïve as to why. He knew. He knew why that one black egg __had been left alive while all the others were murdered in cold blood. _

'But no.' _he corrected himself, suddenly._ 'Not _one_ egg alive.

'Two.

'Ancestors be praised, there are _still_ two.'

_The thought was not much of a comfort as he approached the other guardians, preparing himself for their reaction once they were conscious to witness to the destruction all around them. But for now, it would have to be enough.__

* * *

_

The story was easy enough to follow, and Spyro found he already knew how it ended.

'Cynder?' he whispered. 'That last egg, it was her?'

'Yes. Her egg. And her doom because of our carelessness.' Ignitus looked up into the dark sky. No more lightning, at least, but that just made the sky seem darker than it had before. If that was even possible. It wasn't the first time Cynder's fortress had given Spyro the creeps but from up here, it looked almost beautiful. Almost like something…

Like something a dragon would create. Sometimes it was so easy to forget but that wa exactly what Cynder was. What she would always be.

Damn it. Why hadn't he realised _sooner_?

'The Dark Master was torn,' Ignitus went on calmly. 'He wanted to destroy all the eggs to prevent the birth of the purple dragon. But he also _needed_ a dragon.'

'Why would he _need_ a _dragon_?' Spyro hadn't meant to sound quite that unbelieving but he did, nonetheless. Spyro didn't stop looking at him, trying to work out where this had come from, and why the living hell hadn't he known about it?

'But if we come from the same place, why is she so, so…'

'Big?' Sparx found the word for him. 'Evil? Monstrous? Sexy…'

…And Spyro wasn't even going to _comment_ on that last one. He screwed up his eyes, trying to shake Sparx's comment out of his head and Ignitus's explanation _into_ it. Only somehow, he thought he already knew what _that_ was going to be too.

'Because only one born in the Year of the Dragon could serve as the portal that opened the Dark Master's prison. Spyro…' he paused, and Spyro figured it had something to do with the look on his face. He forced himself to close his mouth. 'After the raid she was... corrupted by the Dark Master's _poisonous_ powers. Corrupted by his evil lore. There is nothing left of the hatchling that was taken from the temple. Nothing left of her but silent voices of ancestors she can no longer hear and spirits she is deaf to. She's become the Dark Master's Monster.'

'_And you blame yourself for it,' _Spyro thought, as pieces of puzzle he'd never even thought about were there started to click steadily into place. _'You're ashamed. That's why none of you told me. That's why none of you mentioned where she came from and I didn't even question it anyway. And you never told me of the Dark Master and what I could be up against if she succeeded in doing whatever she's doing…_

'_Those crystals. She has all of them now. So whatever it is you were hiding Ignitus, you might as well tell me the rest of it now.' _

'Yes,' Ignitus answered Spyro's silent speech. 'There is a great deal we didn't tell you, Spyro. Too much. Perhaps because we wished to protect you. Perhaps for more selfish reasons. To hide our own shame…'

Spyro blinked in shock. 'Wait, did you— you _heard_ that?'

Whoa, whoa!' Sparx freaked slightly. 'You never told us the freaky psychic mumbo jumbo stuff could do _that_, man, you said you needed time an –an reflection and a big green thingy pool.'

'Intuition and visions are two different things, Sparx,' Ignitus said calmly. 'Sometimes they overlap. I read no ones mind. But I understand the anger anyway. It's a rage I've felt myself.' Spyro opened his mouth to ask, but then changed his mind and shut it again. It wasn't an issue they needed to look at. Not now.

'Yourself? Man, you have no freaking _clue_ about my anger,' Sparx snorted. 'You said we were dealing with the end of the world. You _didn't_ say we were gonna be getting our dragon battles on with this guy's sister.' He blinked. 'Oh holy crap, man that means the huge freaky dragon beastie is related to _me_. _That_'ll sure put a dampener in the family reunions.'

'Not sister,' Ignitus corrected. 'Similar, but no sister. There is an undefinable bond between dragons born in the same brood, but there is _no_ blood. There is no need for it. Dragons do not have sisters, Sparx. They do not have brothers.'

'_Yeah, they do,'_ Spyro thought silently, trying very hard to think of something else that would stop the anger eating. _'They do. And I'm not going to let him die because of some stupid error made years ago, not after we've come this far.'_

And Ignitus gave Spyro another deceptively calm look, as if he had read his mind on this statement as well. 'Well,' he said, evenly. 'At least most of us do not. Not of _blood_.'

'But why now? _What_ now?' Spyro went on, changing the subject back to the old one. 'What does this _Dark Master_ want?'

Ignitus didn't speak for yet another second. Obviously another thing he was reluctant to talk about, then, Spyro thought. 'He wants to be released from the Portal of Convexity. To wreak havoc across the land.'

'The same portal Cynder wanted the crystals for' Spyro said, getting it at last. 'And if she gets there?'

Now there was no going back on what he had said, and Ignitus knew it. 'Then he just might succeed.'

That was the moment when the sky exploded.

For a few moments, it was like daylight had come for the first time to Concurrent Skies, almost as if it were working on cue. It broke through the cloud cover like a lightning bolt, multiplied by a thousand. _Like the power of a thousand suns_, Spyro thought, ironically, claws scratching fearfully against the marble beneath them. It was like knives or spines piercing the sky, ripping a hole in the fabric of the world itself. It loomed larger and brighter than a nearby planet, and there, right in the core, drifted a narrow, black silhouette.

Cynder.

Nope. _Definitely_ not daylight.

'I'm afraid,' the Guardian said, raising his voice over a sudden roar that Spyro hadn't even noticed until he realised Ignitus was having to yell over it, 'we may be too late.'

'Oh, man,' Sparx groaned. 'Apocalypse nigh, man. The end of all time is right on our doorsteps. _So_ not my fault.'

Spyro looked up right into the light glare of what he now realised was an opening portal, and knew that he wasn't going to let it happen.

Cynder would be stopped. One way or another, a dragon lost over thirty cycles earlier would be brought home.

* * *

**Reviews and Concrit are appreciated. **


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